In which Rachel is manipulative
by IrethR
Summary: Anderberry with a dash of Cheerio! Kurt. Rachel is manipulative, Kurt is reluctant and Blaine has no idea what's going on.


**Hi guys! Thought I'd try my hand at some Anderberry. Let me know what you think?**

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><p>"Kurt, wait up! Kurt!"<p>

Kurt pretended not to hear her, choosing to straighten out his red and white uniform and walking away from his locker instead. If he didn't acknowledge her, maybe she'd go away. Maybe she would vanish in a puff of those obnoxious gold stars she always carried around or something.

Of course, that hope turned out to be futile. She caught up with him just as he was turning the corner to head to the gym for practise early. She grabbed onto his arm and he turned around to face her unwillingly, but even less willing to have her wrinkle his uniform. The Coach would roaster his pear hips over a fire if that happened.

"Something I can help you with?" he asked her tartly, not really in the mood to talk with Rachel "Oh look at me being the star of this hick town" Berry.

Rachel took a deep breath, obviously gearing up to rattle a mile a minute, so he held up a hand to stop her.

"The abridged version, please. I have more to do today."

She seemed to deflate a little and Kurt watched as a pout appeared shortly before being sucked in again.

"Fine," she huffed. "Look, I know we haven't ever really gotten along-"

Kurt's snort cut her off. "Understatement."

"- and I'm not going to pretend that I'm sorry for taking all the solos you thought you were good enough for-"

"_Am_ good enough for."

"- or that I'm happy you joined the Cheerios and _abandoned_ us-"

"Wouldn't expect you to."

"- and will you just stop interrupting me for a second so I can talk?"

He raised his hands a bit, purposefully holding a mocking smirk on his face as if to say 'Go ahead, talk. Amaze me.'

She narrowed her eyes some, determined to take his challenge.

"Right. Despite all that," she said, "I'm willing to extend the olive branch and invite you to be my friend."

He raised an eyebrow. "Cut the crap, Rachel. What do you want?"

She deflated a little as if she was bummed to have been caught out.

"It's Blaine," she muttered. "He's failing French and freaking out about it and driving me insane."

Kurt needed a second to remember who Blaine was. Rachel had never really talked about her brother when they had been semi- friends back in the early days of glee club. If he recalled correctly, Blaine was younger then Rachel by only ten months and went to a completely different school. Some posh all- boys school in Westerville Kurt would never admit he really wanted to visit once. Also, he remembered quietly giggling at the afro hairdo Rachel had showed him in a picture once.

"What does that have to do with me?" he asked her, noticing Santana and Brittany turning the corner and entering the hallway they were in.

Rachel bit her lip a bit, obviously not happy about having to ask him anything.

"You're at the top of the French class. The _AP_ French class."

"You want me to tutor your brother," he stated, glancing at the Cheerios passing them to enter the gym for practise.

She nodded. "That would be preferable, yes."

Before he could answer her – _because no way he was ever setting foot in Rachel Berry's house again, once was enough thank you_- Santana had managed to bitch her way through the crowded hallway and had linked her arm through his, as if trying to stake a claim. As if.

"What's the deal, manhands? Trying to make your way up in the world by bribing a Cheerio so you can join?"

Rachel huffed, crossing her arms. "I would never. At least think about it, Kurt?"

She turned around, walking back the way she had come. Well, not walking. Rachel Berry didn't walk. She stomped, glided extrovertly and marched. She never just _walked_.

Kurt gingerly unhooked Santana's claw- sorry, _arm_- and walked into the gym, anticipating two hours of music and dance drills. No way in hell was he going to tutor Rachel Berry's kid brother.

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><p>He wasn't quite sure how he had gotten to this point, but for some inexplicable reason Kurt found himself on the front steps of the Berry-Anderson home three days later. Maybe it had been Rachel's impossibly big brown eyes following him around everywhere he went, maybe it had been her whispers that her brother had somehow managed to go through puberty and come out <em>hot<em>. Maybe it had even been the teenie tiny bit of camaraderie he pretended not to feel for his former Glee club.

He didn't get any more time to contemplate what had caused him to come over with his French books and a dictionary because the front door swung open at that point, revealing Rachel Berry and her ridiculously large grin.

"Kurt! Thank you so much for coming by! I'm sure Blaine will love it."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. Surely Blaine would have been made aware his sister had found him a tutor. It wasn't like Rachel to keep achievements to herself.

"I'm sure," he drawled, stepping into the house reluctantly. He shrugged off his coat, revealing the fact that he hadn't bothered to change out of his uniform yet.

Before Rachel could open her mouth to pour out what was sure to be very awkward small talk, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Kurt turned his head to see the source of the noise and had to struggle not to let his mouth fall open. Because _holy hell_, puberty had been very good to Blaine. Gone was the awkward afro he used to call hair, replaced by a short, slicked back 'do that seemed to come straight out of the fifties. He was wearing a pair of uniform pants with a white button up and a blue and red tie that was only half done up. An outfit that on anyone else would have seemed douchy, but looked criminally good on Blaine. Damn it.

"Hey Rach, who's your friend?" Blaine said, and _holy shit_ his voice was as smooth as his hair. This was not good.

"This is Kurt, your new French tutor," Rachel said in a chipper tone of voice, obviously very proud of herself for something.

Blaine looked confused. "But… I've got a B average in French. You know that, I showed you my report card last week."

Kurt turned towards Rachel, somehow not really surprised she hadn't been completely honest with him. Or her brother, apparently. "Rachel, care to explain?"

Rachel flushed a little, her smile becoming a bit strained.

"Don't be silly, Blaine. Your grade is dropping more every week."

She made a little move with her head towards Kurt, and then widened and pointed her eyes at him in a slightly psychotic manner. Blaine seemed to be as confused as Kurt was, because he looked at his sister as if she were crazy.

"Er, I suppose. I did get a C yesterday-"

"See, my point exactly! You obviously need help, and Kurt is excellent in French. So there. Why don't you go study upstairs?"

She then did one of her signature dramatic twirls and flounced out of the room, not sparing the two boys another glance. Kurt watched for a few seconds as Blaine stared after his sister, and then cleared his throat pointedly. Blaine's eyes swivelled back to him and a small blush seemed to appear on his cheeks.

"Right," he said, "You might as well come up. She'll be unbearable if you leave now."

Kurt nodded and followed him up the stairs, very determinedly _not _looking at the very attractive ass walking up the stairs in front of him. When he entered Blaine's room he stopped to look around for a second. It was surprisingly neat, though not as tidy as his own. There was a guitar stashed in the corner, paperbacks littered every surface of the room and there was a stack of Vogue magazines on his desk. The room was a bit too brown for his tastes, but he supposed it would have to do. The room did have one major selling point, though. The boy living in it.

"Okay," he said, turning a bit to find Blaine quickly averting his eyes away from him, a blush darkening his cheeks. Kurt allowed himself a small smile. "Let's open those French books."

As Blaine moved to grab his books, Kurt allowed his smile to blossom in full blown grin. Maybe tutoring Blaine –never mind that he didn't _need_ tutoring, per se- wouldn't be so bad after all. And maybe, just maybe, he could learn to tolerate Rachel. Maybe.


End file.
